30 Romances
by Guardian Kysra
Summary: Ficlets done for the themed community, 30 Romances. RobinRaven is the claim. Each ficlet is standalone unless stated otherwise. THEME 1 HAS MATURE CONTENT. Theme 4 now up! Happy Valentine's!
1. Comfort

**_30 Romances Theme Ficlets_**

_Robin/Raven_

_By Kysra_

Theme #1 (Cold hands; feet): Comfort

They bathe by candlelight, three steps and fifteen minutes apart, together in a small room by golden glow with water drops gleaming. She is always first because she is no fool. He is always second because he is no sin. Their eyes meet as she moves to exit the shower - spray cold, her skin shivering; and she is unaffected by the sight of his nakedness, of the erection that is always there to greet her. It is an intimacy of necessity, this small comfort they allow when the memories shift and flow around their already full minds.

He helps her dry the dampness from her body, to dress her when there's nothing left to brush away; and she always watches, moved by his bare eyes and wanting his pursed lips. The candle dims and dies before he is done with his own cleansing, but neither mind for there is a force that connects them through the darkness, allows them to find each other when their eyes cannot. She then returns the favor - drying then dressing, her touch sterile though her heartbeat echoes into his chest. There is always that moment, just before they exit this room of swirling smoke, steam, and darkness that she is still trapped in Hell, waiting for him to make her remember. There is always that memory of her tiny legs stretching across the width of his back, of her small weight perched along his torso.

Possibilities die in those moments, and she becomes as cold as the water that puckered her skin only minutes ago.

They part with the understanding that this can never happen again, that they have had enough time to swallow the changes and accept the ties that bind them. There is a finality to the whispered "good night" and the feel of fingers sliding against fingers; but they know only an hour will pass before the frigid air breaks under her bed clothes and drives her to seek his warmth. And it is understood that he will be waiting, ready at the door to accept her into his bed one more time because he needs the assurance of her body pressing against his length, grown and mature and beautiful; but they know this addiction cannot last. They know it can't be healthy to need this much.

But there is a subtle hint of panic in their eyes when the other is in another room, a tiny spark of animalistic terror in his movements when she disappears to meditate for long periods; and it is understood that the comfort can only be given between them. So they ready for another day, waking before dawn to usher her into her bedroom, setting their faces to begin the play of everything's fine and normal for their friends, knowing that when the sun sets and after the day is over they will be back in that smokey little world of cold and warm comfort until the morning comes again.


	2. Bound

_**30 Romances Theme Ficlets**_

_Robin/Raven_

_By Kysra_

Theme #2 (Subconscious; buried): Bound

Their eyes seek each other across the kitchen table, the third floor hall, the apocalypse.

He is bound to her, he knows, but no longer begrudges her this. Once, he was the master of his own destiny. Now, he is the arbiter of hers even if she has not yet acknowledged this power he holds over her. She knows it is a power he will never abuse.

Because he cares so much, needs so strongly.

The affection she bears him is buried in the coffin of her soul, and the sweet, rotting stench finds him in sleep where everything is clear and understood. It calls him, taunts him; and he suddenly knows it is not she who will fall to insanity.

He has already lost that battle, already abandoned his senses. And his eyes can't see her anymore.


	3. Cloud

**_30 Romances Theme Ficlets_**

_Robin/Raven_

_By Kysra_

Theme #3 (Anvil; Banter): Cloud

He found her before he was even aware of searching - his feet moving him forward without thought; masked eyes drinking her in as if they had not been fed such a sight in years; a fluttering restlessness suddenly calming with the subtly audible flap of her cloak on the wind. Robin felt as if he were in the presence of the avatar of grace.

"Robin." She inclined her head though she did not turn her heavy gaze from the bay, did not seek him with her eyes as he had sought her. He wondered at how unaffected she yet was despite the events of the last few days, despite the destruction of her father.

"Raven." A smile turned the corner of her mouth as he stepped up next to her; and it suddenly occurred to him that this was the third time she had smiled in as many days - a world record to be sure.

They stood together, silent and still and waiting before Robin decided he was tired of watching her with her shoulders tensed and bowed as if the weight of entire solar systems were perched there just beyond the nape of her neck. Whatever burdens she continued to entertain, he wanted to shoulder alongside her. It was simply what friends did.

"I'm trying to decide whether white is a good look for me," she spoke softly, in measured words without inflection or gesture; and he was quite startled to identify the stifled laugh in the unexpected statement.

He cleared his throat and wondered why he suddenly felt nervous, "You look like an angel."

Making no comment, she merely gave him a sidelong glance before that strange, little smile deepened and her eyes became a soft, liquid violet staring as they were into the distance.

Wondering what she was looking at, he turned his face toward the bay wind and began to count the clouds sailing across the dusky sky. There was a cumulonimbus cloud forming along the shore with what seemed to be a quite formidable looking anvil dome, and he knew there would be rain tonight.

"I doubt the villains we fight every day would be very intimidated by an angelic vision in white."

He couldn't stop a chuckle at that.

"Maybe."

"And it probably isn't a practical color to fight in. It certainly wouldn't do well for traveling in shadow." Again, there was a laughing quality to her voice that seemed strange . . . and calming. He felt some undefinable tightness in his chest loosen even as he turned the full force of his grin on her.

"You're probably right."

And just as he had internally predicted, she turned to face him with her usual dead pan look, "Says the man in the clown suit."

_There__she is_, he thought just before he restrained the urge to hug her by giving a careless shrug. "I like to make an entrance."

Clucking her tongue, she returned to watching the sunset, the clouds and waters with that silly, happy smile that was almost as unnerving as it was soothing. "I rather like having options."

He blinked at this, grabbing her hand before he could think too much about it, "You're not leaving, are you?" It was the reason he had been so restless before - for the last few days since they had _literally_ gone through Hell to come back and rid her of Trigon's influence. After all, she had come to Earth to prepare for her father's imminent arrival, to prevent his success. Now that she had seen to her mission, there was nothing to keep her here . . . with them.

_With me._

She scoffed and squeezed his hand, "No. I'm not leaving." He knew she was thinking she had no where to go just as he knew she would never say it. Raven only spoke with necessity; and she didn't dwell on that which she could not change.

"White suits you." He said after long moments, pretending not to notice that their hands still held. "You could trade the clouds as your new camouflage."

"Cyborg would be so disappointed," her voice was airy and light and - dare he think it - _beautiful_, "I wouldn't be 'Dark girl' anymore."

And that's when he knew she had never intended to keep the white in the first place. That's when he knew she had been just as afraid of her changes as he was. "Whatever you decide, you're still _Raven_. Nothing can change that."

Squeezing his hand again, she sighed and closed her eyes - the white of her cloak and leotard seeming to suddenly bleed and darken like a living thing. He tried valiantly not to stare.

Once it was done, Raven let go of his hand and straightened to her full height - which was still rather short considering Beast Boy had somehow managed to gain an inch above her - before resolutely turning her back on the sunset, the clouds and waters with that silly, happy smile that was _still _almost as unnerving as it was soothing.

And suddenly it occurred to him why that smile was so new to him, so strange and fresh and unexpected.

"You're _happy_."

"No. I'm still Raven. Happy is in here." She pointed to her temple even as she took his offered arm.

He couldn't stop the bark of laughter that erupted from his throat just as he couldn't resist leaning against her just a bit to breathe into her hair, "I'm glad you're _Raven._"


	4. Wager

**Warnings**Featuring Horny!Robin, Generous!Raven, and heaps of innuendo.

_**30 Romances Theme Ficlets**_

_Robin/Raven_

_By Kysra_

Theme #4 (Diabolical; Highest Order): Wager

Robin was on the cusp of a dilemma, and it was entirely his own fault (for once). You see, while he was caught up in the euphoria of newly-wed bliss, he had made the mistake of presenting his new wife with the prospect of Valentine's Day. Never mind that they had never – not once – celebrated it before, they were married now and that meant he had one day out of the year to shower her with romantic overtures. She had pointed out – and rightly so – that he was always trying to be romantic and that 99.9 of the time his efforts were wasted on her; wasn't it romantic enough that they were (finally) married?

But no, no it was not. He would not rest until she saw, felt, heard, experienced the depth of his ardor for her, and she had relented, throwing up her hands in her first ever show of blatant frustration (he had been so _proud_) and storming out of their christened bedroom to begin the day.

That had been a month ago. Valentine's Day was in two days, and he had no plan, no ideas. He was toast. Because, once she had cooled down, his lovely bride of three months had turned his little proposal into a wager: If he could inspire a visible reaction from her, she would bite her tongue and let him build a personal gym adjoining their house (working out made him frisky therefore he liked to have her nearby and accessible – not that she ever actually complained about helping him expend the extra energy). However, if his attempt at romancing the stone fell flat, he would be forced to endure two grueling weeks of boarding the Munchkin Maulers which wouldn't be so bad in and of itself (he liked the little spores) except that Teether had begun to experiment with his abilities which meant no surface or object was safe, Melvin had started to notice boys, and Timmy's temper had only gotten worse in adolescence.

There was also the little fact that they were newly-weds and Robin wasn't quite ready to relinquish her undivided attention just yet. Maybe it was selfish, but considering the amount of blood, sweat, tears, and raw will he had put into wooing her, he thought it was only his due to enjoy the fruits of his labors uninterrupted and without care.

And Good God, was he enjoying it! In fact, he had never been a religious man, but there had been many times since the wedding when he found himself thanking a Higher Power, vocally and with enthusiasm, to his wife's very apparent amusement.

He did so love to make her smile, if only because he liked a challenge.

And of course, he was no fool. His dearly beloved spouse never bet on anything she wasn't sure she'd win. She was nothing if not shamelessly fatalistic, seamlessly cynical, and diabolically practical. She raised pragmatism to an art form. His was a veritable goddess of seeming simplicity (though intricately so).

Which was why he was so completely stumped as to how to approach this whole Valentine's debacle. He tended to think in complex turns and tangles, complicating the basic and exacerbating the already difficult. She was the linear thinker of this outfit.

And – to be quite honest – he had exhausted all of the Valentine's clichés long ago. In the past, he had given her chocolates, flowers and jewelry; serenaded her (never again); accompanied her to the opera; sprang for a romantic dinner under the stars complete with a string quartet; danced on a floor littered with rose petals; walked along the beach holding her hand; surprised her with a bedroom lit with a hundred candles and a bed made up with silk sheets; written countless cards and notes and poems (really, NEVER AGAIN); AND made it a point to tell her he loved her every day he was lucky enough to wake up next to her. She was always appreciative of his efforts though she would insist that she didn't need all of these schemes or material shows of affection to know he loved her; but he knew that she understood why he went out of his way – he wanted to give her something normal, something that any other head-over-heels guy would give his girl, something she had never experienced before: total devotion.

It was worth it just to see that teasing little sparkle in her eyes.

Of course, he had to admit that it would probably be in his best interest to steer clear of the generic flowers-and-a-box-of-chocolates routine. After all, the best way to get a reaction out of his little witch was to catch her completely off-guard. She would be expecting something out of _Romance for Dummies_; therefore, he needed to be more cunning, personal, sentimental. Because if there was one thing he had learned about the queen of his heart, it was that no matter how much she tried to hide it (and she had LOTS of practice), she was affected by the little things that mattered. And only one thing really, really mattered to his wife: _family_.

He grinned suddenly and picked up the phone. He knew exactly what he had to do, and with a wry chuckle he realized he had been right in his assumption that being in love would ruin his sex life.

-30romances-

Raven was a professional at hiding things of the corporeal variety as well as thoughts and feelings, so she was reasonably certain that Robin would never find his Valentine's gift. Still, she checked it for tampering for the hundredth time that day – just in case, before setting out to pick up some take-out for a night in. She had history on her side when she assumed they wouldn't be going anywhere near outside their bedroom tonight . . . unless Robin was feeling especially adventurous.

He was insatiable – not that she really minded. He was always considerate of her time if she had some urgent business to attend to; though, admittedly, she had not yet found a reason important enough to turn him down. Maybe because feeling what he felt when they were so intimate was an addiction she couldn't shake. It wasn't about physical connection, it was about souls embracing; and Robin had an extraordinarily beautiful soul.

She smiled softly. He made her feel beautiful inside too.

It had been easy then, agreeing to this St. Valentine's Day celebration. He had given her so much of himself, tried so hard for her every step of their acquaintance, friendship, and courtship. It was the least she could do to give him this one day to show him how much _he_ meant to _her_. She was so unschooled in love, so green in the face of his easy affection that she sometimes wondered if he really, truly understood that her spirit would starve to death without him.

Of course, he had no conception of what she was planning. The wager had been a rather devious masking mechanism. She had known he'd be so preoccupied with trying to find something to extract a visible reaction from her that he would never even guess at what she was planning for him. In fact, she would be willing to stake her marriage on the assumption that it had not occurred to him even now – on the big day itself – that when she had agreed to a Valentine's exchange, she had meant a mutual exchange. He was simply that selfless when it came to the people he cared about.

She was not a Christian, had a limited knowledge of this world's conceptions of the deified; but Robin had been raised in that tradition, and what she knew, she understood through him. It was through the intercourse of the Cathecism that Raven's view of Robin as an angel was – at least partially – formed. In her mind, when she felt him most keenly, he was a seraph (though she fervently believed it would never be his calling to sing) and somehow gifted with the power to purify her through the force of his own goodness; and in her heart, she knew him as her guardian angel, sent from whatever Powers That Be to be what she needed most – a friend, what she wanted most – family.

Actually, now that she thought about it, she should be ashamed for thinking of him as angelic in any way, shape, or form. Richard Grayson was anything but angelic. In fact, he could be positively devilish when he believed the situation called for it . . . especially if he happened to be alone with her. Anywhere. Anytime.

Honestly, his penchant for risk taking with their privacy held the potential for extreme embarrassment.

Which was why deciding on his gift was such a simple thing. Really, it was easier than changing a spark plug in the T-car. Here was a beast that needed taming, and Raven was nothing if not adept in the art of self control. His present, then, was as much for her as it was for him. Still, she knew he'd enjoy it . . . in more ways than one.

-30romances-

When he returned home – rather early by his standards – Valentine's night, he was exhausted. He wondered how it was he could do Nightwing patrol with no problem and extra energy to spare, but bussing a few kids around the city made him feel like an old man.

He didn't immediately see Raven, but he could smell Chinese take-out and roast chicken. Before they had taken vows, they had mutually decided that Raven would not count cooking among her half of the household chores. Robin wasn't a proficient chef, but he could actually produce edible meals. It was only practical that he be relegated to cooking duty.

"Raven?" He called, pointedly closing the front door behind him and unknotting the tie at his neck.

She appeared from the kitchen wearing a neat little dress that he remembered Starfire had picked out years ago. It had always been his favorite though she sometimes looked a little uncomfortable with the notion of an outfit that showcased her shoulders and arms. "I think the common greeting is 'Happy Valentine's'".

Despite the fact that he had gone into this knowing he was going to lose out, he couldn't help but think that loss – in this case – was sweet. "Forgive me. Happy Valentine's. I see you've been busy."

"Very." She gave him an expectant look. "Are you going to kiss me or do you want to stand here looking at each other the entire night?"

He laughed before stepping in and kissing her, hard and with feeling because God knew when they'd be able to be intimate without interruption in the next few weeks. "I love you." He whispered against her lips before swatting her bum for good measure.

"Love you too." She was still a little awkward when she said it, but he knew it was no less heartfelt. When she moved to take his hand and lead him away from the door, he sighed heavily and pulled her back against him.

"I have something for you."

"Robin, you _always _have something for me."

Had it been any other day and any other circumstances, he would have laughed and dragged her to the bedroom right then. It was a rare and special occurrence when Raven made a dirty joke. "Well, there's that and then, there's this –"

He didn't even need to open the door himself. The Maulers (really, they were too old – with the exception of Teether, maybe – to be called 'Munchkin') launched into the house, running for Raven, clasping her in hugs, and yelling "Happy Valentine's Day!" at the top of their lungs.

Robin made sure to capture her reaction on camera. After all, he didn't want his lovely spouse to renege on their wager due to lack of indisputable proof. Honestly, though, the wager was the last thing on his mind as he watched her mouth open in surprise and her face brighten with the largest smile he had ever seen from her; and he couldn't help the answering grin he felt stretching across his own mouth as he noted the way her arms kept the three bundled close to her, how even though Melvin was now an authority-challenging teen and Timmy was still enmeshed in the "girls are disgusting" stage, they clung to her just as tightly as Teether who was still young enough to need the security of a mother-figure.

Eventually, as the chaotic chattering of the siblings died down, and the novelty of the surprised had lessened, Raven looked up at him from smoothing Melvin's hair, eyes glowing, and mouthed a silent 'Thank you.'

THAT made the almost-intentional ruin of his sex life worthwhile.

Soon, they were sitting down to a candlelit dinner (some juggling was in order since Raven had set up only two chairs and two place settings) in the parlor that doubled as Raven's private library; and though he had originally hoped for a night alone with her, Robin couldn't help but feel utterly content as he took in the scene unfolding before him.

Melvin chirped about the multitude of high school dramas she was - happily - not involved in while Timmy tried to get a word in edgewise about how he made the soccer team and he really wished the monks would let him stay out later to practice, and Teether fairly bounced in his seat as he fairly yelled over his siblings to announce that he had aced his last spelling test. And through it all, his dour darling managed to show genuine interest equally with grave nods and free smiles and soft words of advice, encouragement, and congratulations.

She was amazing, loving these children. It was amazing, seeing them love her back. The sight made strange thoughts rise in his head about their future progeny and how he wouldn't be disappointed if they ended up pregnant despite their pre-wedding decision to wait. Seeing her like this, soft and protective and positively glowing with love . . . he lived for it.

And as dinner passed and the children began to wilt with exhaustion (jet lag was a hard taskmaster), Raven's eyes met his across the table, and he suddenly knew that no matter how much he enjoyed watching the Misses playing mother, he was not going to survive the next two weeks on eye sex alone.

Later then, after the mess had been cleared and the kids were safely tucked into their makeshift beds, Raven found him in his study, trying to find a quiet moment to congratulate himself on a well-played victory and woefully wondering how he was going to handle behaving for the extent of the Maulers' stay.

"I have something for you too." That was his Raven: direct and straight to the point, not even a hint of teasing. "I was planning on giving it to you whether you managed to win or lose."

Turning, he found her in the doorway, covered from head to toe in flannel (how she had developed such a passion for such an unattractive material, he would never know), holding a tube-shaped container in her hands. Intrigued, he stood and held out his hands, raising one brow and smirking at her. He hadn't expected that she would . . . _When did she -- ? And where was it hidden?_

"You didn't have to."

"You'll thank me. I'm already thanking myself." THAT had him shaking with suppressed mirth – He was only beginning to understand the keen sense of humor that lurked beneath the cold façade. Her brand of humor sprung not from her words, but from the fact that you knew she was saying exactly what she was thinking.

She watched soft and somber in the dim lamplight as he opened the tube and gingerly pulled out . . . _blueprints?_ His eyes met hers, confused. _Couldn't be_, he thought; but she nodded quietly in response.

_His private gym_. She had been planning on giving it to him anyway? And people wondered why he had married her.

In a moment, she was at his elbow and taking the plans from him, spreading them out on the desk and pointing out the layout. "I wasn't sure whether you wanted to include certain amenities since it will be built right outside, but I insist on the meditation room." It was a small room in the very corner of the would-be building labeled in small letters that had been crossed out in dark green ink then re-labeled.

"Hanky-panky room?" Robin snickered.

An expression he recognized as 'unamused' adorned her face, "Garfield."

"Ah, and dare I hope that I'll get some 'hanky-panky' tonight?" He knew it wasn't possible with a house full of kids, but he couldn't help himself.

'Unamused' suddenly turned to 'shrewd.' "Are you up for another bet?"

Despite their already established closeness, Robin stepped even closer, lowering his head and stopping just before their lips touched. "Depends, but I'm definitely feeling like a winner tonight. What are the terms?"

Small hands smoothed their way up his chest and over his shoulders. "There is a bow located somewhere on my person. You guess where, and you get to have your way with me."

She _was_ a little witch; but she was _his_ witch, and he knew that she wanted to lose this one. Still . . . maybe he hadn't ruined his own sex life after all. "And if I guess wrong?"

"There's no way you could guess wrong."

"Really?"

"Oh yes."

"And how is it that I can't be wrong?"

She pushed up on her toes to lick the tip of his nose before stepping back and making her way – somewhat unsteadily – to the door. Once there, she turned just enough to look at him and answer, "I won't be wearing anything but the bow when you guess."

He blinked, grinning like a shark circling its prey before following her example and moving to exit the room. "And what about the kids?"

"They know we're married, Robin." Her tone was as flat as always with just a hint of exasperation, but she relaxed into his side when his arm came up to clasp around her waist.

"Well then. Maybe we should give them earplugs."

"Are you insinuating that I'm loud?"

"Are my eyes blue?"

His lovely wife spared him a sidelong glance before raising her eyebrows in challenge before sedately walking ahead towards their bedroom. "We'll see who makes who scream tonight."

Definitely, _definitely_ did not ruin his sex life. Definitely, _definitely _a winner tonight. There _was_ a God.

He smirked before following. "Wanna make a bet?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**The story behind this fic is a simple one -- I was telling Emaniahilel that I felt really badly about all the work and suffering all of us Rob/Raven shippers tend to put him through. I swore that I would write a fic in which he got everything he wanted with little or no effort. THIS is that fic, and just in time for Valentine's Day 


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